The Blacksmith's Wife (4 page)

He realised his name was being called and snapped his attention back to the present. He re-entered the chamber and the Guild Master beckoned him forward, gazing down his crooked nose.

‘You are young,’ the Guild Master stated. ‘Eight months out of being a journeyman, you said?’

Hal nodded slowly, locking eyes with the Guild Master.

‘Your work lacks finesse,’ the Guild Master announced stiffly. ‘The blade is good, but the work on the quillon lacks technique.’ There were murmurs of agreement from around the room.

‘No subtlety in the ornamentation,’ another man interjected. There was a familiarity about the man. Hal couldn’t place the resemblance but something in the straw-coloured hair and pale eyes clawed at his memory.

‘Your ambitions outstrip your skill at this time,’ a third added.

A burning ache began to grow in the pit of Hal’s stomach as he took in the meaning of their words. He had failed.

‘Go back to your village, young man,’ the second man said with a stiff smile. Once more the turn of the man’s lips reminded Hal of someone, though now he did not care about remembering who it was.

The Guild Master stood. ‘Practise your trade. Take a wife and increase your standing. Perhaps in a few years you will have acquired the necessary skills to see beyond the bare form of the metal.’ He gestured at the weapon on the table.

Hal stepped forward and wrapped it in the cloth, casting his eyes over the twisted knots of the cross guard.

‘Thank you, sirs,’ he said as politely as his disappointment would allow. He walked out, head high. It was only when the door had closed quietly behind his back that he allowed his frustration full vent.

With a growl he turned and kicked the gate. It was childish but it relieved some of his disappointment. A greasy-haired man standing at the street corner with a tray of pies gave him a suspicious stare. Hal glared back and took a breath that rasped in his throat. He needed a drink. Water first to quench his thirst, then something more potent to numb the disappointment.

He strode to the fountain in the gardens and lifted the chained cup to his lips, drinking deeply. The lion’s head grinned at him, its sightless iron eyes mocking. Irritated, Hal flung the cup back into the basin sending water slopping over the edge.

A cry of annoyance made him start. He had not noticed the figure sitting on the step at the other side of the fountain, but now a woman stood and rounded on him furiously.

‘Watch what you’re doing, you great oaf!’

Joanna stood before him. She seemed to register who she was speaking to for the first time.

‘You!’ She wiped her hands over her damp dress. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Did your brother send you to find me?’

‘Do you take me for his lackey?’ Hal said bitterly. ‘I have better things to do than traipse around the city on errands for him!’

‘Then why are you here?’

Joanna folded her arms across her chest with indignation.

‘Don’t annoy me, woman,’ Hal growled. ‘I have no idea what brought you to this part of the city, but I am here on my own business and I am most definitely not in the mood to listen to your accusations.’

Joanna’s eyes glinted brightly and she gave a sob. Her eyes were red and swollen.

‘You ignored my advice, I take it.’ Hal sighed.

She bit her lip and nodded guiltily as if expecting recriminations while somehow still contriving to scowl at Hal from beneath long lashes. Being glared at by Joanna was like being scolded by a kitten.

‘He said he cannot marry me. He chose another’s favour.’

Remorse stabbed Hal’s guts. He had been instrumental in bringing her to this state. He had told Roger to make his intentions clear but the girl had not deserved such public rejection. He mentally cursed his brother’s unthinking cruelty. Assuming it
was
unthinking, of course.

His craving for a cup of wine increased but he could not leave the blasted woman here. Already they had attracted the attention of the pie seller who was eyeing Joanna with open interest. Recklessly he reached for her hand.

‘What are you doing?’ Joanna demanded, pulling against him.

‘You’re not the only one to have suffered a disappointment this afternoon,’ Hal said firmly. ‘I’m going to find a drink. I don’t want to leave you somewhere this isolated alone so I’m taking you with me!’

Chapter Four

H
er chin resting in her hands, Joanna stared moodily at the cup before her.

‘Drink,’ Hal instructed.

Joanna opened her mouth to refuse, but Hal’s watchful expression made her think twice. She took a small sip. As the sharp, cheap wine hit her tongue she realised how thirsty she was and how dry her throat, no doubt the result of the weeping she had done. She took a deeper swig, then another until she had all but drained the cup. She slammed it on to the table and glared at Hal defiantly.

Hal raised his cup in salute to her and drained it in one. He leaned back against the wall, his shoulders brushing hers, and stared at the cup, rubbing his finger across the rim.

‘Now can we leave?’ Joanna asked.

Hal did not appear to hear her. Joanna stared about the room. The customers were quiet, serious men dressed in rough work clothing, nothing like the company her uncle kept. It wasn’t the sort of place she imagined a nobleman’s son would choose to drink in.

Hal refilled their cups and turned his attention to the long, cloth-wrapped bundle that he had propped against the bench between them. He affixed it with such hatred that Joanna burned to know what it contained. She glanced sideways at her companion—this dark figure, so like Roger in appearance, yet so different from the carefree, easy-tongued young noble. Joanna shifted in her seat.

‘If you’re planning to keep me as hostage all evening, I’d rather know sooner than later,’ she said archly.

The anger that had not left Hal’s eyes since their unintentional meeting began to ebb and the crease between his brows smoothed. His lips flickered in what might have been amusement.

‘Hostage? You do have a knack for overstatement.’

Joanna scowled. ‘What else would you call it? I didn’t ask to accompany you. You half-dragged me through the streets, despite my protests, barely speaking to me along the way. You barricade me into the corner and now give me no indication how long you intend to keep me here!’

Hal spread his hands wide and leaned back against the wall. ‘You are free to leave whenever you like.’

Squashed into the corner by the fireplace, she had no way of leaving without crawling under the table or climbing across his lap. Her chest tightened at the idea of such closeness and she hurriedly took another drink. ‘I’ll stay...for now.’

Hal gave a brief, empty smile. ‘Good. No one should drink alone when they’re sad.’

Joanna’s eyes pricked at the reminder of how distraught she had been when they had met. She realised that her distress had vanished, replaced by anger and curiosity at Hal’s odd behaviour. Now the memory of Sir Roger’s callous words reared up once more and a lump formed in her throat. Her lip trembled and Hal’s expression became sympathetic.

‘We have established that I was not searching for you,’ Hal said, ‘but tell me why you were skulking alone in a square?’

Joanna shrugged. It was none of his business.

‘I was waiting for someone.’

Hal’s eyes lit with interest. ‘Who? Have you finished grieving for my brother so quickly?’

‘Don’t mock me! How can you suggest such a thing? Why do you seem to enjoy wounding me?’ Joanna slammed her cup on to the table, causing the men at the next table to regard them curiously. ‘I will never forget your brother. My heart is in pieces and my hopes are...my hopes...’

She broke off as the lump in her throat expanded to the size of a fist. Hal refilled their cups and held one out to her, a small gesture of apology. She took it and tossed the wine back.

‘I have no hopes,’ she muttered, self-pity enveloping her. ‘I love him and it is for nothing.’

Hal picked up his cup and took a long, slow drink. ‘I cautioned you not to approach him today but you didn’t listen to me. If things are not going his way, his temper can be short. Surely you know this about him, though?’ Hal’s lip curled into a grimace. His face was so like Sir Roger’s that it could be the knight himself mocking her.

‘My brother only comes to York twice a year for the tournaments. In three years you can only have been in his company seven or eight weeks at most,’ Hal said kindly. ‘Has he ever asked for your hand?’

Joanna’s stomach twisted. ‘Never directly. He said he had to wait until he had enough money. He’s suffered losses in other years, but now he says he can never marry me. What can have caused him to change his heart so quickly?’ she asked.

She swallowed and buried her face in her hands, while the sadness flooded over her. She turned her face miserably to the corner until she had mastered her emotions. Hal said nothing, but when she finally raised her head he had moved her cup closer to her reach. She gave him a thin smile of gratitude and wiped her eyes on the end of the yellow scarf she had hoped Roger would take as her favour. She twisted it tightly between her fingers.

‘How can you be so certain you love Roger?’ Hal asked softly.

Joanna raised her eyes to meet Hal’s defiantly. ‘Anyone who knows him would love him. He’s a great knight—or will be when his fortunes change. No one else has ever made me feel so desired.’

‘Are you sure it isn’t simply the idea of what he does that attracts you?’ He sounded so scathing that the blood rose in Joanna’s cheeks. Her head spun from the wine. She pointed an accusing finger at him.

‘What he does is wonderful. Why should I be ashamed of loving him for that? You’re bitter because he has what you’ll never have,’ she spat.

‘And I’ve told
you
I have no wish for his position. I’m happy in mine,’ Hal answered with a glare, his voice rising. Again, the men at the next table glanced over. ‘Or I was!’ he finished bitterly, lowering his voice. His eyes fell on the mysterious bundle once more and sorrow crossed his face.

‘What is that?’ Joanna asked quietly. ‘You haven’t told me what put you into such a dark mood. It’s to do with that, isn’t it?’ she said.

Wordlessly Hal lifted the bundle and laid it on the table in front of him. He unfolded the cloth. A thick-bladed sword lay before Joanna.

‘Is that Roger’s?’ she asked.

‘It’s mine.’ Hal raised his chin and fixed Joanna with an intense stare. ‘I made it. I’m a blacksmith,’ he said with dignity.

Hal’s presence in Bedern made sense now.

‘You were at the guild,’ Joanna said. She was about to admit her connection but Hal gave an angry sigh.

‘For the little good it did me. I have finished my time as a journeyman and crafted this as my masterwork. I thought it was fine enough but I was wrong,’ Hal said shortly. ‘A pack of overfed, overgilded men who sit in judgement on overstuffed chairs!’

He continued to rant and Joanna sat back to listen, hiding a smile at the description of her uncle and his fellow guildsmen. Hal’s voice was heavy with disappointment and she did not want him to think he was the cause of her amusement. Instead she nudged his cup of wine towards him with her own and turned her attention to the sword.

Years of living and working with Simon Vernon told her at a glance why the guild had rejected it. The weapon was well proportioned, but the design was crude with too much clamouring for attention. With a scrap of parchment and ink she could have designed better herself. She merely nodded, suspecting Hal would not appreciate any further criticism.

Hal clearly misinterpreted her silence as a lack of opinion. He sniffed, giving her a condescending smile.

‘Of course a woman wouldn’t appreciate the work involved in crafting something of even this standard.’

‘Of course,’ Joanna agreed icily. She traced the tip of her finger across the heavy knotwork of the pommel and turned to face him with a cold smile. ‘You should put this away or it may attract the attention of someone capable of wielding it.’

That blow hit home with alarming results. Hal’s face hardened.

‘I know how to use it,’ he said. ‘My father—and brother—intended me to be Roger’s squire. I received all the training my brother did. I can fight as well as he can.’

He pushed the table back and stood. ‘Now we have both succeeded in insulting the other I think our business here is done.’

‘I agree,’ Joanna said. ‘Farewell, Master Danby.’ She stood and brushed past him, affecting to make as little contact as possible, and stalked towards the door. She had barely taken ten steps into the street before footsteps pounded behind her and a hand seized her arm. She gasped in alarm.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Hal asked.

‘Going home!’ Joanna answered, trying and failing to shake free of his grip.

‘Not alone,’ Hal said. He gestured at the darkening sky. ‘It’s growing late and a woman should not be roaming the streets alone.’

‘These are my streets, I know them better than you and I don’t need your protection,’ Joanna said. She wrenched herself free and folded both arms tightly across her chest, staring moodily at Hal. ‘Besides, I thought we agreed we had offended each other enough to merit parting company.’

‘Offended or not, I insist,’ Hal said calmly. ‘You are here at my whim and therefore you are my responsibility. I would not see you come to harm.’

‘My hopes are dashed and my heart is broken. What further harm could befall me?’ Joanna sniffed.

‘Do you really want me to list the ways?’ Hal asked darkly.

Joanna scuffed her foot and pretended to consider her answer. He was right; the city was no place to be walking alone, however much she wished to be rid of his company.

‘Are you going to stop behaving like a foolish child or shall I throw you over my shoulder and take you anyway?’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

The skin at the corner of Hal’s eyes crinkled with amusement. Against her will Joanna smiled.

‘Very well, as you give me no choice,’ she said.

‘You will have to direct me as I don’t know where you live,’ Hal reminded her.

As she slipped her arm through his Joanna suppressed an involuntary smile. Uncle Simon would have long since finished his business and she took great pleasure in anticipating the surprise in Hal’s arrogant eyes when he discovered whose house he had arrived at.

* * *

‘Where are you leading me?’ Hal grumbled as Joanna turned down yet another snicket. ‘We could have walked to Whitby by now.’

‘You are free to leave me any time you wish,’ Joanna replied curtly.

They were the first words she had spoken, the first acknowledgement she had given that he existed at all since reluctantly submitting to Hal’s demand to accompany her. Occasionally what might have been a sob escaped but was quickly stifled. Hal could not pretend to be anything other than relieved that she was keeping her emotions in check.

Presumably she would give vent to her feelings once more when she was home, wherever that might be. Hal stared down the narrow street leading off into a warren of alleyways and grimaced.

‘I swear we have passed this way three times already,’ he said. ‘These alleys are no place to be walking at night.’

Joanna stopped walking abruptly, causing Hal to bump into her. She finally met his eyes. ‘You can defend us with your fine sword, can’t you?’ she said. The faintest trace of a smile curved about her lips, challenging rather than amused. ‘Are you worried you’ll get lost?’

‘I don’t like cities and this is the least welcoming I’ve been in for a long time,’ he answered.
Though it could equally be the company influencing my mood
, he thought darkly.

‘You’ll recognise where we are soon enough,’ Joanna replied. She motioned to carry on walking.

Her head barely came to Hal’s shoulders. If she had not been holding herself stiffly at arm’s length she would nestle in the crook of his arm quite satisfactorily. Hal glanced down at Joanna’s bowed head. He preferred his women to be tall and willowy, but he decided Joanna’s curves would be a pleasure to bundle up against in an evening that was rapidly becoming chilly. Perhaps he should have made good his threat to throw her over his shoulder after all.

Lost in thoughts he knew should be forbidden, Hal barely registered when Joanna stopped again. He found himself in the square where they had first met opposite the Guild Hall.

‘So you
were
leading me in circles,’ he said irritably. ‘Why?’

‘Because I had no wish to return home so soon,’ Joanna said. ‘I said you were in no danger of losing your way.’ She dropped his arm and stalked past the hall, rounded a corner and stopped in front of an imposing house on the end of a row.

‘You live here?’

She nodded.

‘Yet you were sitting alone in the square?’

Another nod, this time accompanied by a loud bang as she lifted the ornate iron doorknocker and released it.

‘I told you I was waiting for someone and I was.’ Her eyes were wide and innocent, but the full lips were curved once more into a smile as the door flew open and light flooded the street to reveal the figure of a man.

‘Where have you been so late?’ demanded an irate voice that was sickeningly familiar to Hal. It was the man who had sat at the Guild Master’s right hand.

‘I believe you have met,’ Joanna said sweetly. ‘This is my uncle, Master Simon Vernon.’

Hal cursed to himself as he bowed, realising now what Joanna’s half-secret smiles had meant. He turned to go but Master Vernon spoke.

‘What are you doing with my niece? Is it your doing that she’s so late back?’

‘Master Danby kindly brought me home, Uncle,’ Joanna said. ‘For which I thank him and shall say farewell.’

‘I know your face,’ Master Vernon said. It sounded like half an accusation, half a threat.

Hal bowed again. ‘I had the honour of presenting my work to you this afternoon.’

‘Honour nothing!’ Master Vernon snorted. ‘You’d better come in and explain what has happened to keep her out so late.’

Joanna stiffened. Clearly this had not been part of her scheme. Now she was in the light Hal saw her eyes were once again red rimmed. For all her bravado she had been weeping as they walked. Hal stifled his sympathy, reminding himself that Joanna had led him intentionally to meet the man he had disparaged in such strong terms.

‘Gladly, Master Vernon,’ he said, and walked inside.

‘You let me say all those things and did nothing to stop me,’ he muttered to Joanna as Master Vernon walked into the back room calling for wine.